The Conjured and the exiles

a/n; I’m using an U.K, English spell checker, hence jail, is gaol, which is the preferred way of spelling it over here.


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Daen rode back to Bala escorted not only by Kef and Avis but a whole armed guard. A bit overkill, she thought dourly to herself. But then she was the only one to know that they were safe. The guard was just an expression of lord Darcia’s concern, and she felt worse for not telling him the whole truth. Later she promised herself, making plans as to how she would introduce her brother to Lord Darcia.

She had slept long into the day but still felt groggy, a headache like a hammer on an anvil beating behind her eyes but as befitting her formal escort she sat up tall in the saddle. Daen had intended on going straight back to bed when she arrived back at the plaice. However on her way she was intercepted by a page boy who informed her that her presence was wanted in the grate hall. She would have cried off, but the page insisted that Lord Darcia had been very insistent that she come. He also passed her a sealed letter, the hastily scribbled name of the back was in Veoine’s brash scrawl, she decided that she would read it later and tucked it in to her breast, having no pockets.

She made her way to the grate hall, and on the way was met by an agitated Veoine. ‘Are you alright?’ He asked with concern, and she assumed he was referring to the attack, or her fainting spell, though it was unusual for Veoine to be concerned about such things.

‘Tired.’ She smiled. ‘But fine, I only got scratched yesterday…’

He held her shoulders, now even more worried. ‘You haven’t read that letter yet?’

Daen twisted her face in confusion then pulled the unopened missive from her breast holding it up for him to see. ‘This one?’

He hung his head, and shook it in disbelief. ‘Gods, there is not enough time to explain properly now!’

‘Explain what? What’s happened Veoine?’

He grabbed her arm, and walked with her towards the grate hall door, talking in hushed tones so close to be whispers in her ear. ‘Your brother, we captured him. He is here now.’

‘What!?’ Daen explained in disbelief. ‘How did…’

‘Sushhh!’ He hushed her hastily looking about. ‘Right now, I’ am the only one who knows he is your brother. I have told lord Darcia. Daen you must listen and stop trying to interrupt! Your brother he killed three men this morning.’

‘Oh God’s no!’ Daen sobbed, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

Veoine pulled her in to an alcove and hugged her hard. ‘I’m sorry filly.’ He said as she let out another sob. But swiftly she regained her control and gently pried herself free of him, assuring him that she was fine. He explained hastily what had happened earlier that day before asking ‘Daen I have to know before we go in there if you have anything to do with this? Lord Darcia will want answers. Did they try to kill you and Lord Darcia yesterday.’

‘My brother would never harm me!’ Daen answered after remaining frozen for a moment, thinking it was not quite a lie. Veoine looked a little relived, and did not seem to notice that she had neatly evaded the question.

‘Well that’s one thing I suppose. Did you call him here?’

‘No. Of course not, you saw my last letter.’

Veoine nodded. ‘I thought as much. You brother really is as pigheaded as you are. I had a feeling he might well try to come after you again.’

‘I knew he was coming.’ Daen admitted. She waved her finger in a vague gesture. ‘Magic. I already told Lord Darcia last night.’

‘Hmm.’ Veoine scratched his chin. ‘That is as well.’ He taped his lip and looked sadly down at Daen shaking his head. ‘This is very serious Filly, murder is not taken lightly here. Its not just something Lord Darcia will be able to overlook even for your sake.’

‘Daen, and Veoine you look cozy in there.’ Dacia greeted them captain Vespa standing behind him.

‘My Lord.’

He was not wearing his mask but it was in his hand, his grey eyes looked over her quickly. ‘You still look pale.’ He said, ‘Judging by your expression my little witch I assume you have heard the news.’

She slipped out of the alcove towards him. ‘My Lord.’ She answered in affirmation.

‘I just informed her now.’ Veoine interrupted exchanging significant glances with Vespa, who looked mildly annoyed. Daen did not miss the exchange of looks, and wondered what it was all about, but had to put it to the back of her mind for the time being.

Daen looked back at her lord with a white face and green hungry eyes hoping to work out how much he knew. ‘I will order them brought to the grate hall. The gaol is no place for a woman. And Daen still dose not look quite well.’ Darcia ordered as he held out a gloved hand to her. His grip was firm, hard, he did not know his own strength. Her eyelashes fluttered, but her gazed did not leave his face.

‘As you will My lord.’ She said meekly, and let her lord lead her away. The hall was empty and echoing now that it was nearly empty of people. It was bigger than she remembered it, more imposing, and she wished that they could have gone in to one of the smaller, less formal anti chambers. Lord Darcia guided her up to the dais to sit beside him on the chair there. He placed his mask on, and then placed his hand back upon her wrist, his grip almost bruising. Daen was not sure whether he meant it to be a comforting gesture or not. She did not trust her judgment, and she had learned that silence was best when you didn’t know what would be best to say to prevent a bad situation from getting worse. It seemed to be working for Darcia glanced at her, and in his blue eyes she read pity. He seemed about to say something when there was a messenger ran in to the room.

‘My lord there is a traveler from the south; he is wounded, and will only give his message directly to you.’

‘The boy with the broken sword.’ Daen said, looking sharply at Darcia. ‘It must be him. The one I dreamed about last night!’

‘Bring the boy here, I will see him immediately.’ He sighed. ‘I’m sorry Daen it looks like your brother will have to wait.’

‘I understand.’ Daen answered somewhat relived. She preferred to see Leoff on his own before Darcia met him. She needed time to read through Veoine’s letter and ask his advice, then time to make some sort of plan. She looked up to see Lord Darcia regarding her with pride, he must have thought her selfless, and she almost flushed with shame at the deception. ‘My Lord can we at least talk about my brother now?’

‘Of course.’

‘My Lord Veoine has not filled me in with all of the details yet, he did not have time. But from what I know of my brother he would not harm anyone unless he thought himself under attack.’

‘I see.’

She turned to look face him carrying on earnestly. ‘He was a gentle boy, very serious, very kind we moved to Porth when his father died…’

‘Was he your father too?’

‘Yes mine to, but I saw little of him growing up. I lived in Nheim, while he traveled the empire. My father eventually became a captain for a border noble and my uncle Rahim took me then to see them sometimes.’

‘Strange.’

‘What is?’

‘A Nheimian leaving Nheim for any length of time, almost unheard of.’

Daen glanced up at him, ‘Oh it’s not so unusual, I am here after all.’

‘Yours I think is a very unusual case. It is also strange that your father was willing to let you grow up away from him. I have always heard that family was paramount to Nhamians.’

‘It is.’ She answered swiftly. ‘It was. He thought that I had been killed along with my mother and so he left without looking back. And when he found out I was alive he could not take me with him else I would have been hunted down and killed. While I was in Nehim I was safe, or so we thought; besides I was happy there.’

‘One of these days Daen you will have to tell me the story of your life.’ He answered lightly, clasping her hand.

‘One day I will tell you.’

‘Why did you never tell me of your brother before?’

‘You never asked.’

He let out a low sound of amusement, though she knew beneath his mask his dark brows would be frowning. ‘Daen.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She replied to his reproving glance. ‘It seems that there was never the right time. There is much we don’t know of each other isn’t there? I have only recently discovered that Veoine was your cousin!’

‘I’m surprised that he did not tell you before.’

‘You could have told me.’ She rejoined sharply.

He shrugged. ‘It was not really of importance.’

‘That’s my point. I assumed Leoff was living out his life in Mawnaws. I wrote to him sometimes. He never wrote back. And I worried about him. But there was no point in saying anything to anyone. I was not important that anyone knew about him.’

‘But now it is.’

‘Yes, now it is.’ Daen looked away, hanging her head, so that her face was veiled by her thick brown hair. ‘My Lord, what will happen to my brother now?’

‘I do not know Daen. I have not got all the details myself.’ He answered, he lent across to her and drew the hair back from her face. ‘I will do what I can.’ She looked up at him with tremulous green orbs. It was no reassurance really at all, but if it was all he could offer her then she had to accept it. Leaning her cheek in to his palm she sighed, then held it there with her hand. The warmth and strength of his palm through the soft swade of his gloves was reassuring at least and she opened her mouth to tell him the whole of the dammed mess when the door opened and the captains traipsed in.

Later she promised herself once again.


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Alwen thought himself to be dyeing, he was so exhausted, and probably more than half crazy, but he had to see lord Darcia, truly see him if it was the last thing he ever saw. And so when the city guards kept demanding of him over and over what he wanted, he refused to say anything but he had a message for Lord Darcia, repeating it like the mantra of the insane. Eventfully the armored guards gave in with a shrug, and roughly escorted him through the lofty halls. He entered the grate hall he was not disappointed it was like seeing a scene from a legend come alive.

Lord Darcia’s cold gray eyes were upon him, and he had not intention of looking away. Nevertheless, he looked his Duke up and down because he could not help it. He was even more magnificent in person than Alwen had remembered him, sitting upon his throne, clad in black and silver. Up upon the dais sitting to the Duke’s right was a vision of beauty, a pale skinned woman, fine featured, with a mane of richest mahogany. Her striking green eyes were intent upon him, witches’ eyes. She seemed to recognize him, and leaning slightly towards Lord Darcia she spoke to him in an animated whisper, before turning her rapt attention back to him. Lord Darcia nodded and then held her wrist possessively; she had to be the sybilla.

‘My Sybilla said to expect you young Knight of the south.’ Lord Darcia said, his voice rich and resonate in the silent hall. The young knight was startled to discover that he had been expected. The room fell to silence once again, anticipate, and Alwen realized that they were waiting on him. Feeling nervous he hesitantly introduced himself and then told the story of what had brought him to his lord’s hall, baring the tattered remains of the Pritbur banner as a make shift sling. Alwen in the past two days had almost died, he had seen others die, and a town utterly destroyed he was going out of his mind with grief. As he spoke he sank to his knees, as he spoke he relived the long, long night all over again. In his exhausted and emotionally crushed state he was not entirely himself, somehow he managed to tell the whole of it, as he took in all he had seen, reporting it without embellishment, his voice was horse by the end of it, choked almost.

It was quiet for a moment, and then he listened to the sounds of voices, all talking over one another at his news. The voices and faces of personalities he had long dreamed of meeting. Captain Veoine Faorin, the lightning strike. He was just as hansom and dashing in person as rumors lead to believe. The man who was of noble blood, Lord Darcia’s very cousin but who preferred to live as a common solder.

Then there was the dark brooding presence of Captain Kef Tann. Who had infamously murdered a party of nobles, to be thrown in to the blood works only to crave his bloody way to the very pinnacle of gladiatorial fights. Then fighting Lord Darcia himself in a battle of single combat he swore to serve lord Darcia forever when the young Duke bested him. Captain

Timor Brand, the pious quiet man, who was an innovator non periled. And there at the center was Lord Darcia and his consort. And Captain Vespa, the Isra girl who had snuck in to the army dressed as a boy, only to rise through the ranks. Compared to such persons of importance, Alwen felt very insignificant.

Wiping his eyes he felt hot tears on his cheeks. Then there was a firm hand on his shoulder. Looking up he saw Lord Darcia towering above him. His mask removed, and prismatic fierce eyes looking upon him. Shamed by his unmanly show of emotion he franticly tried to wipe his own eyes.

‘Do not be ashamed, Alwen of Bute. If I could cry I would. What was done should be enough to make any man of Marchadia weep with sorrow.’ The hand griped tighter for a moment before releasing. ‘You have done well. And have earned my thanks. Go rest now Daen will tend to you.’ Alwen then beheld how the cold lord was suddenly like a flame in front of him. Above him was a candelabra, burning brightly, its brilliance merciless and magnificent. Magnetic and full of energy as he let his will be known to his men in a soft yet imperious tone.

His job done, Alwen would have gladly welcomed oblivion at that moment. ‘Alwen.’ He herd a soft faintly accented voice call him. Looking away from Lord Darcia’s retreating form he saw the slender figure of the sybilla, drawing him to her with her hypnotic emerald eyes.

Dazed he stood with her help. ‘You have been through a vey terrible time. But it is over now. Come with me and I shall find you somewhere quiet you can rest.’ Her accent was only a beguiling taste, softening her fluent Chade. He was almost unbelieving as he managed to find the energy to follow the Duke’s woman through the plaice, as if by her will alone he was drawn after her.

They came to an unoccupied room, and she urged him through. For a moment he thought she would leave straight away, her face impatient. But she noticed his useless arm, and bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth, thinking, before biding him to sit.

Sitting on the edge of the bed the Sybilla tended his multitude of wounds helping him pull off his shirt. ‘Fear not I am a healer.’ She said when he would protest. ‘And it’s a good thing to, the kind of scrapes my lord has been in recently.’

‘You tend Lord Darcia?’

‘Hmm. And now he wants me to tend you.’

‘I don’t deserve such… My lady I don’t deserve the distinction surely a servant could...’ Alwen replied embarrassed to be so singled out.

‘Nonsense.’ She smiled and began to wash his wounds. She applied soothing slave to his burses, ‘To do that to a boy.’ She said under her breath as more bruising was reveled over the youths back and chest. He was black and blue all over. Her sympathy was balm to his wounded soul. Alwen sensed that the sybilla already knew more about him what she had herd today. Witches it was rumored were supposed to be able to see in to a very man’s heart and read all that was there, looking in to the woman’s unusually knowing eyes he could well believe such rumors. She asked no questions, and he was grateful, for he did not think he could stand to answer any more. Her inner stillness, seemed to be a weight of melancholy that surrounded her was companionable, as if by working on him she was soothing herself, much as you might find solace grooming a horse.

The young woman began making up a cup of willow bark tea over the fire for his aches. The youth sat on the edge of the bed, curled over, staring numbly at the floor. ‘Here is a nightshirt for you.’ Daen offered as she turned back to him, and she helped him in to it, before binding up his arm. ‘That collarbone is defiantly broken, but it should heal well.’ She helped him in to bed and pointed out. ‘You will have to take off your sword to sleep; no one will harm you here.’

He reluctantly unbelted it, but held it still. When the woman turned to retrieve the tea he drew his sword, or what was left of it, gazing at the shattered blade. He glanced up to see that she was watching him from the corner of her eye. She rounded upon him, and held out the cup to him. ‘Alwen, that blade is not you.’ It was such a strange thing to say, and yet it touched on a hurt that Alwen had not realized he had been nursing. He looked up at the small woman and wondered what else she knew. He exchanghed his broken blade for the draught. ‘Sleeps the best heeler. Time as well, trust me.’ She smiled. ‘I expect Lord Darcia will want to see you tomorrow.’

‘For more information?’

‘Yes. I would think so. But I think he wants to make some use of you young knight.’ She said enigmatically before she closed the shutters on what remained of the day and left him to rest. He lent over to the bedside table, fetching the banner that the sybilla had discarded upon it. Like a child’s comfort blanket he held it close to him. It was bloodstained, and smelt of smoke, I was a reminder of all that had happened, but he could not bear to part with it. Soon he fell in to a blissfully dreamless sleep, his own little death.

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The word gaol had sent a cold shiver of terror down Daen’s spine. Her experiences of gaols had not been pleasant, and she had learned during her ride to Bala from the stories of the soldiers (many of which were veterans of the imperial prisons) that the gaol that she had been held in was one of the nicest that the imperial city had to offer. And so after reading through Veoine’s letter, horrified by what her brother had done Daen went to seek out her incarcerated brother as dusk settled, terrified for him.

Daen had long herd rumors that Lord Darcia had held political prisoners for many years in the eastern tower of the older keep part of the plaice. She never had the courage her dark lord about it, half fearing what his answer would be, and not wanting to ruin the fragile domestic ease that they had. However Daen had never been able to contain her curiosity, many of her woes she knew could be blamed of her tendency to seek out things best left alone and so eventually she asked the high priestess.

When she had asked, the pale haired woman’s, watery gray blue eyes stared long and hard at the younger woman her expression quizzical as if judging whether she would answer her or not. Daen expected the high priestess to deny the rumor and was surprised when she did not, nor did she even try to sugar coat the story but told it mater of factly her face schooled so that Daen could read nothing of her emotions..

‘Lord Darcia’s uncles lead a rebellion against him when he first became Duke. He killed the younger in battle and the elder along with his son had been locked up within the tower for the remainder of their life’s after rebelling against the young duke. Lazare, Lord Darcia’s cousin tried to escape and fell from the window, or perhaps he flung himself from the tower unable to stand his confinement any more. Who knows. His father went mad not long after, he ended his days as a lunatic.’

‘It strikes me as a slightly cruel thing to do to family.’ Daen said, but she looked thoughtful not shocked. After all had her family not done worse?

‘Perhaps.’ The high priestess said as one does that has put something long behind them. ‘They had got off lightly for usually the price for high treason is death.’ The tone the priestess used let Daen know that Darcia had been very inclined to kill them. ‘Alfred, lord Darcia’s elder uncle had the blood crow done unto him.’

‘Blood crow?’

The high priestess used the voice and cadence of her scripture reading, taking an extract of a saga Daen was not yet privy to. ‘And the young lord carved the crow on his back with his sword, and cut the ribs all from the backbone, and draw the lungs there out, and gave him to his ancestors for the victory he had won. Though it was in sorrow for this was his own blood.’

Knowing all this Daen realized that the situation did not bode well for Leoff and his friends. And it was with trepidation that she had first sought her brother in the eastern tower, only to find the rooms locked up and deathly quiet save a slightly unsettled aura about the place. Daen was glad to leave it, and continue her search elsewhere.

After that she sought out a weary looking Veoine who explained at length that the gaol in Bala was really just the cells in the infantry barracks. Normally they were only used for holding drunks for the night, or as a place to give brawling solders time to calm down. In the Marchadians criminals were not held long, instead they had to pay there debt to society with manual labor for the injured party or the ducal seal. Veoine seeking to settle Daen’s troubled mind expanded that he on many occasion had spent a fairly pleasant night in the cells sleeping off to much drink.

Daen still looked dubious. And Veione knew better than to try and talk her out of her fears, one way or anther she would find a way to get to her brother, so he decided to save them both the hassle and escort her there himself. ‘Come on then filly, I will take you now.’

‘Thank you Veione.’ Daen replied with real gratitude.

The gaol was on the ground floor in a separate wing of the Infantry barracks, its exercise courts backing on to the palace gardens. As Veoine explained the building had been converted from an old stable block when the new stables had been built in to store rooms, and the gaol. The building was certainly more pleasant then the dank hole she had been held in. The walls were freshly lime washed, or like the rest of Bala made of smooth rendered pale gray stone. Even the floors were freshly scrubbed clean, and there were windows high in the walls would have let in plenty of light now torches burned in the scones. But still a prison was a prison. The sound of keys in the locks was a reminder of that.

‘You have a visitor.’ The blond captain said as he let Daen through and stood back, letting her have her privacy. ‘Go on filly. I will be waiting outside when you want to leave. Just knock.’

Daen looked up at him, but said nothing. Her strange unique mysterious smile lit her face for a moment before she turned her back and strode her resolute light step in to the cell.

‘Leoff?’ Her voice came out far quieter than she had wanted it to. Swallowing a lump of sudden nervousness she called again. ‘Leoff?’

‘Daen, is that you?’

‘Who else?’ She smiled, just before Leoff stepped in to the light and engulfed her in a bone crunching hug. ‘You have grown.’ She said. Leoff let out something that might have been a sob. She tried to pull back and look at him, But Leoff refused to let her go for a moment, mumbling something intelligible in to her hair. She petted his hair as she had done as a child, and eventually he seemed soothed by the gesture, holding her by her arms and looking over her.

‘You look pale.’

‘Are you surprised? I’m surprised that I have not fallen in to paroxysms of vapors over all this!’ She hugged him again. ‘Oh gods Leoff I have been worried half to death about you, and now this?’

‘You have never had vapors in your life Daen. Your far to level headed for that.’ Leoff retorted.

‘True.’ She answered.

Loeff laughed bitterly, and then sat down on his narrow bunk, he out his head in his hands. ‘Oh what have I done?! I come all this way to rescue you and it looks like you will be the one to save me!’

Daen sat down on the bed beside him; thinking though he had grown he was still young. ‘It’s alright Leoff.’

‘No it’s not. And I have dragged Vas and Blake in to this as well.’

‘Leoff it will be alright I promise.’ Daen said, putting her arm about his broad shoulders. He looked up at her with his murky hazel eyes. Daen returned his gaze evenly; there was no point in worrying him. ‘Lord Darcia is not an unreasonable man. Everything will be fine.’ She said, trying to convince herself as much as him.

She knew Loeff knew that tone. It was the same tone that she used when they were left orphans ‘It will be fine Leoff,’ when she had been desperately ill with blood plague, ‘I will be fine,’ and when she had known that her family would hunt her down, ‘It’s fine Leoff.’ Perhaps this time it would be.

‘Daen, why did you send no word?’ Leoff finally asked.

‘I wrote to you, at the gladiator school.’ Daen answered. It seemed feeble even to her own ears.

‘I never got them.’ Leoff answered. ‘I sold myself to a noble, and have been working for him since then first as a gladiator and then as a solder. Now I’m mostly stationed at Cawriad on Sidana’s northern border. I did get your first letter’

‘So why then did you seek me?’

‘I had to. Lord Darcia’s father abducted his wife; I could not let the same thing happen to you!’

‘Lord Darcia did not… he…I mean….at first he…But then… I…I….Oh!’ Daen stopped and flushed hotly. ‘It’s not that simple!’ She sighed. ‘Leoff I think you had better tell me the whole story of how you got here, and then we can start to untangle this mess..’

‘And you will tell me yours.’

‘Yes.’ She said wearily. ‘But you first. Vas told me a grate deal, but I want to hear it from you.’

‘Trust Vas not to mind his own business.’ Leoff scowled darkly.

Daen smiled in the gloom. ‘But he is a good friend to you?’

‘I suppose.’ Leoff answered. ‘I have never really met anyone like him before.’

They spoke long in to the night. Leoff didn’t add much to what Vas had already told Daen. Daen told her brother a much abridged and edited version of her time with Lord Darcia. She told him the noble had indeed brought her from gaol, and that she had agreed to work for him to pay off her debts. She told him of her time training as a sybilla. She could sense Leoff was skeptical, but he seemed to accept it.

‘Daen, what by the gods happed?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why did you end up in that hell hole in the first place?’

‘Ah.’ Daen lent back and looked up at the ceiling. ‘I’m still asking myself that question.’

‘Come one guarded tongue, blood of my blood, you can tell me. I know it involves our uncles in Nheim. Don’t try to slither out of this question.’

‘Loeff I know I can tell you. But I honestly don’t know the answer. I can tell you what happened and let you draw your own conclusions.’

‘Then do that sister.’

‘Alright, but it is a long story.’

‘Right now I have nothing but time.’ Leoff pointed out.

‘I suppose this is your history as much as mine.’ She admitted reluctantly. ‘You to bare both blood lines as well, if our family knew that you existed you to would be hunted. But since you were not raised in Nheim I don’t know how much of this will make sense to you.’

‘Father often said that to me.’ Leoff said, the words touching an old sore. ‘That I would not understand. I knew that you and he shared in a secret; you both never spoke of it. I always resented that, not knowing, been kept in the dark.’

‘The dark? This truth is not some reveling light; it’s a thick fog and shadow. The truth can be a heavy burden Leoff.’ Daen answered. ‘This truth destroyed my life.’ She looked at him closely, his eyes were pitiless in there desire for the absolute truth. Leoff had never learned the value of ignorance. ‘You would know it despite my warnings wouldn’t you?’

Leoff sensed her distress. ‘If you still can’t bare to speak of it…’

‘No. I think that now I can tell it, though I reluctantly part with it.’ She thought of the young knight clutching his broken sword though it pained him to look at it, she decided to take her own advice. She sighed, and her eyes went afar looking back to a past that Leoff knew little of. ‘Perhaps it will be good for me to relinquish my hold on this old pain. But I warned you that it is a double edged blade. ’

‘I was only just five when I thought I was orphaned, certainly that year our mother was taken from us. Sometimes I wonder if my memories of her were correct, if she really did always smell of carnations and rosemary, if her eyes really were as green as emeralds. I find as time goes by I have forgotten more and more of her until I scarcely remember her face, but her voice, her voice singing I do remember.’

‘I do not remember mother at all.’

‘No, I expect not. You were just a babe in arms. I remember her playing with you by the hearth, letting you tug at her hair.’ Daen smiled. ‘You were so small then. And wrinkled!’ Leoff snorted a brief laugh. ‘I can remember seeing you for the last time as a baby, father was taking you to show his lord, he was so proud. I refused to go, I wanted to play with the village children. After that It was sevral years before I saw you again.’

Veoine came and stood at the cell door. ‘I’m sorry Daen but you really will have to leave now, it’s very late and Lord Darcia will be wondering where you have got off to.’

‘All right.’ Daen sighed. She turned to her brother giving him another hug. ‘I will come see you first thing tomorrow and we can finish this conversation.’

Daen after checking their new guest drew herself a hot bath, hoping to ease the tension of the past few days from her body. Leoff had changed, that much had been made very evident in their time together. Leoff had been such a gentle child, he had never been talkative, but he had been thoughtful, a bit shy. That shyness had become remoteness, he distanced himself from his feelings, locking them away do deep that he might as well have none. The cold manner in which he told her his deeds had chilled her, it spoke not of appetence of his actions, but of something else entirely, Leoff seemed to think that he was dammed, that his soul being already tainted by some evil could now continue down that path. Once wet always soaked. He was wrong; somehow she would have to get him to see that he was wrong about himself.

Daen had often wondered what they would have turned out like if she had not sought to discover what had really happened to her mother, and instead simply lived her life. Had she not discovered what her mother had been would she have sought out the forbidden magics? Had she not dabbled in those secrets her family probably would not have sought her death. Then she would not have been exiled, nor hunted down, and then Darcia would have never….she rolled over in the deep tub laying her head on her arms, it was a useless argument, useless to wonder what if?

More and more complicated her life seemed to be becoming. Like a rabbit caught in a snare she could not avoid fate. Her mind wandered back to the young knight, he was of Leoff’s age, but how different he was from her stony brother. The youth showed early signs of fever, exhaustion having taken it’s tole on him, or perhaps the wounds were infected. She had been a silent witness to all that boy had endured.

The raid had filled her with an unbearable anger. How dare they threaten that town? The depth of her conviction had scared her. She had fallen in love with this land of mountains and lakes, its people as surely as she had fallen for it’s master. And it was with a heavy heart that she went to bed that night, finding it cold and empty as her dark lover was kept closeted with his captains debating what to do about the raid. When he came to bed she clung to him, hoping that but holding him in that way she could assure her heart that he would never leave her.

Daen saw little of Lord Darcia in the coming days, his war cabinet preoccupying him. And She herself as well as her daily routine had to fit in caring for the fever stricken young knight, her time spent with little Cira (who helped her sometimes with Alwen) and visiting her brother in the gaol. Bit by bit over the next few days Daen told her brother, and unavoidably his companions as well the story of her time living in Nheim. There was another who listened just as intently, though Daen did not know it, Bherith who was in his way obsessed with the young woman listened as well.

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a/n; Kynrael; I try to write quick, but as you know life dose have its way of getting in the way of art. Looking forward to the next instillation of Ebony serpant.

Hi Luinil, I try not to cliff, but sometimes one just has to. Lol, yes Leoff is an idiot sometimes.

I’m glad everyone is warming up to Vespa and Veione. I have to say I am half in love with Veione myself sometimes.

Also thank you to SecretQuill, and Hils, for the reviews. I’m glad you’re enjoying it so far. Hils if it makes you feel any better I should probably be doing some house work instead of writing, but writing is oh so much more fun.

I try not to use dyslexia as an excuse to much, after all computers do have spell checkers. Still if any one is interested in being a Beta I will consider all offers.

Email me at alexandra_dg8@hotmail.com